


waffles

by knlalla



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Diners, First Meetings, Getting Together, M/M, Meet-Cute, Sort Of, Strangers, Waiters & Waitresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 03:45:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16255988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knlalla/pseuds/knlalla
Summary: phil goes to the 24hr diner with the hopes of seeing his favorite waiter (insp by me seeing a cute waitress at a diner. unfortunately none of the rest actually happened to me lmao)





	waffles

“M’name’s Dan and I’ll be taking care of you this morning,” the guy says, as if Phil doesn’t already know this, “can I get you something to drink?”

The voice pulls Phil from his menu-gazing, though it feels a bit more like _glazing_ with the way everything keeps going blurry and his focus keeps slipping; to be fair, it’s quite early and he’s yet to have any coffee. He’d just been struggling to remember _why_ exactly he’d woken up in time to see the sunrise on his way over to the diner when he’d looked up to find that very reason offering him a tired smile.

“Hi,” Phil mumbles with his best interpretation of a grin; it’s only the second time Phil’s met Dan properly, if sitting at a table and being waited on by someone can be considered ‘meeting’, but he’s been enamored since the first second he laid eyes on him. Even _clearly_ exhausted with bags under his eyes and a heavily lidded gaze, Dan looks adorable - fluffy brown curls rest atop his head, stuffed under a black baseball cap with the diner’s logo, and they’re a perfect match for the dark coffee-colored gaze he fixes Phil with.

“Coffee!” Phil finally says in response to Dan’s question, cursing his slow brain and his naturally awkward demeanor - of _course_ his single functioning brain cell had to go and get distracted by the warm curve of Dan’s lips, full and pink and begging to be kissed. Dan swipes his tongue across them and Phil wants nothing more than to copy the movement with his own tongue.

“Sure thing,” Dan’s mouth curls up in a smirk, and Phil wonders if he’s been caught staring; but then Dan’s gone, off behind some counter, and he ducks down and out of Phil’s line of sight. Phil stays focused on the spot, though, waiting for him to reemerge - it’s not that Phil’s _obsessed_ or anything, that’d be weird. He just... _really_ likes the waffles here. The _waffles_.

Which is the _only_ reason he’d come back - his first visit had been an early-morning-out-too-late sort of trip that had led him past the twenty-four-hour diner on his way home. His rather unfortunate second trip had been the next week in the later morning - much more his preferred time for breakfast - but Dan hadn’t been working- er, rather, the _waffles_ hadn’t been...as...good…

“Your coffee,” Dan’s back already, pouring the steaming caffeine source into Phil’s mug with his lips pursed in a way Phil has trouble deciphering. What he _doesn’t_ have trouble deciphering is the dimple in Dan’s cheek, and it holds him transfixed until Dan turns, until brown eyes lock on his own and he’s left with a warm feeling that crawls up to his cheeks and settles there.

But Dan just keeps staring, then tilts his head in a way Phil realizes _means_ something, and he coughs out a hum in question; he can feel his blush deepening - he just _had_ to go and get lost in Dan’s eyes like a sappy teen falling in love, didn’t he?

“I said are you ready to order, or d’you need more time?” Dan asks, and this time the words actually make it to Phil’s ears.

“Waffles?” He manages to get out, which earns him a poorly-concealed grin from Dan as he jots a note down on his pad, and there’s that dimple again. Phil forgets how to form words, though he’s fortunately left with a ‘ _I’ll get that order in_ ’ and another brief moment of eye contact before Dan turns, so he doesn’t need to really try.

He ends up following Dan with his gaze again, across the diner until he disappears into the kitchen, presumably to put in Phil’s order. At this point, he decides it’d be quite stalkerish of him - more so than it already is - to keep staring at the closed door and waiting for Dan to come back out, so he makes a grab for his mug of coffee and focuses on adding the proper amount of milk and sugar.

It’s not til he’s just lifted the drink to his lips, intent on taking what he hopes to be a steadying sip, that Dan finds his way into Phil’s field of vision again; he’s balancing a tray on his shoulder - full to the edges with plates for a surprisingly large table for just past seven on a Saturday morning - and expertly unloading each dish with practiced precision. For some reason, this simple and probably rather uneventful act holds Phil fascinated.

And then Dan turns, tray tucked under his arm, and his eyes land on Phil. Who’s not even attempted to hide the fact that he’s been staring, not until he’s been very obviously caught; he lifts his mug the rest of the way to his lips, dropping his gaze to the coffee and trying not to think about how if he’d just added the _slightest_ bit less milk, the liquid would be a perfect match for Dan’s hair. 

He sips until he’s absolutely certain Dan’s gone, then waits another few seconds before lifting his gaze to scan the diner again - sure enough, Dan’s nowhere in sight, and Phil takes the time to collect himself; he really needs to _not_ act like he’s quite so obsessed with Dan. He’s just here for the waffles, he tells himself again. 

To be fair, they _are_ quite good.

Phil busies himself alternating between taking sips of coffee and playing with the empty packet of sugar, commanding his thoughts to focus solely on how delicious his waffles will be - he does _not_ let his mind wander to Dan, who seems to have disappeared for the time being, not that Phil’s thinking about that at all. Or wondering where he might’ve gone to, or wondering if maybe Dan’s already finished his shift and gone home and Phil’s botched yet another chance to-

And then he spots Dan carrying a couple plates, walking in Phil’s direction, and his worries evaporate and resolidify in the form of nerves mixing with the coffee in his stomach. Or maybe they’re butterflies instead of nerves, he has a tough time telling.

With every step that Dan takes closer, Phil expects him to stop staring, to turn his gaze toward another table - maybe that couple that looks far too perky for being up this early on the weekend, or the mum and her kid sat in the corner, both coloring on a placemat with tired smiles on their faces.

But he doesn’t, just keeps on walking right toward Phil until they’re both sort of just watching each other, and Phil has a very hard time tugging his gaze away from Dan’s. But he does, eventually, trying his best to pretend the dregs of his coffee are a decent replacement for Dan’s warm chocolatey eyes; because if he doesn’t, he’s sure Dan will frown, will think he’s weird, will tell him not to come back.

It’s a silly thought, Phil knows, but he has it anyway.

“Your breakfast,” Phil loses this pathetic little battle with his heart when Dan speaks, when he sets a steaming plate of waffles in front of Phil. But he has to look up, because curiosity wins out: Dan had been holding two plates, but Phil’s fairly certain he’s the only person here by himself.

Phil watches as Dan sets the other plate at the opposite end of the table with a clunk. 

“Oh, I didn’t order-”

“Nope,” Dan interjects before Phil can properly argue that he’d only ordered a single plate of waffles - although, he was sort of too dumbstruck to say anything aside from ‘ _waffles_ ’ so maybe Dan had just gotten confused; frankly, Phil wouldn’t blame him. He knows he’s not the most direct person.

Before Phil can properly ask, Dan’s pulling out the chair opposite him and settling in. It’s only now that he’s staring straight at him that Phil realizes he’s lost the hat and apron, just sporting a red and black jumper with his curls let loose in a messy fluff on his head. Phil must be staring, as Dan ducks his head and runs a hand through his hair.

There’s a moment - or _several_ , really - of silence, then, as Phil does his best to process what’s happening; while he does, Dan’s cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink, and he bites his lip while he stares down to his plate. Then his hands grip the edges of the table, and he shifts like he’s about to stand.

“Sorry, this was- fuck, this was really awkward of me to assume- I’m not, I mean- _fuck_ I’m tired and I really should just go, I don’t-”

“Stay?” Phil says before he can stop his mouth from moving, before he can let his still-sleepy brain think too hard on whatever’s happening; the only clear thought he’s got at the moment is Dan’s sat here, and he’d very much like him not to leave. 

Phil’s actually quite surprised it worked - why, he’s not sure, but it’s rare for him to get what he wants, so he’s shocked this time seems to be an exception. But he’s certainly not about to complain. No, instead, his heart decides to race and remind him just how nervous he’d been to see Dan to begin with. And now Dan’s just casually sat across from him, offering a small smile and grabbing a fork and knife. Phil suddenly feels quite like curling into a ball and disappearing - he’d barely had a plan for what to say to Dan when Dan was just his _waiter_ , now he’s got to hold a conversation? About _what_? He doesn’t even know why Dan bothered joining him.

It’s not til Dan lifts a bite to his mouth that his gaze meets Phil’s again, and Phil realizes he’s not blinked in quite a while. 

“Are you gonna, like...eat?” Dan’s hand drops, the bit of waffle no longer poised in front of his lips - which, coincidentally, gives Phil a perfect view; they’re just a few shades darker than his cheeks, the ones that clearly haven’t yet cooled from his earlier- was he _embarrassed_? Did he actually think Phil _wouldn’t_ want him to stay?

“Yeah! Yeah,” Phil rushes out, fingers fumbling to grab his own silverware and cut into the waffles. He shoves a not-syrupy-enough bite in his mouth as quickly as he can, both to break the awkward moment and to prevent himself from saying anything that might scare Dan away. Instead, he offers his best attempt at a closed-mouth smile as he chews. Dan just chuckles, but his shoulders relax and he points his fork at Phil’s plate.

“Good?” He asks, brows raised in a way that makes little lines across his forehead, but Phil’s more focused on the return of the dimple he likes so much. And chewing, which he should definitely keep doing. And he should swallow, too, he thinks, because that’s what a normal, not-obsessed person would do. 

In lieu of attempting to respond - because there’s _no way_ he can trust his own words right now - Phil just nods and hums out a sound he hopes Dan will interpret as positive. The waffles _are_ really good. Which was _definitely_ the reason he came here.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, lovelies! Feel free to give it a cheeky lil [reblog on tumblr](https://knlalla.tumblr.com/post/178921957132/waffles-a-lil-phanfic)


End file.
